


stolen moments

by wiltedpleasures



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiltedpleasures/pseuds/wiltedpleasures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of scenes we weren't fortunate enough to see between Alana and Margot during the three year time jump after Digestivo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you are the best thing that's ever been mine

**Author's Note:**

> I found about four oneshots by chance when I was cleaning up some computer files and it just felt wrong to delete these stories entirely. Enjoy the fluff! :)

Alana had made a personal pact with Margot, long before when she was in the first trimester of her pregnancy: Margot should be the first one to hold their child. Well, after he is clean of all bodily fluids and whatnot of course. It was important to Alana that her wife be the first person to hold their baby because the last time a child was placed in her loving arms was not pleasant at all. She wanted the sight of Margot, _her Margot_ , utterly destroyed at the sight of her lifeless baby completely erased from her mind. She recognized the importance of this day for both of them, but it would be especially big for Margot.

After the birth, she felt disgusting and still had no feeling in her legs whatsoever from the epidural, that feeling alone brought back uneasy memories from that fateful rainy night at Hannibal’s house. Those memories fly out that godforsaken window when she sees the sight of a nurse wheel into her hospital room with a clear mobile crib. She passes over to Margot a swaddled baby with the thickest head of light brown hair, the blanket the shade of a soft baby blue, into her awaiting arms. Margot doesn’t come towards her right away, she is too struck by the sight of the child, squalling in her arms. She can’t even bring herself to coo calmingly at the tiny thing, her eyes wide with wonder and edged with the upmost happiest of tears.

“He’s stunning.” Alana wheezes quietly, trying to shift a little on the uncomfortable hospital bed to get a better look at her son’s face, cursing internally at Margot’s height difference.

“Oh God, _Alana_. He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Margot murmurs, coming over a little closer to the side of the bed so her wife can admire their child. She reaches up, as much as the hospital IVs will let her, and strokes the baby’s warm exposed cheek, the skin clear of any blemishes.

“Well, next to you of course. But yes, our baby is stunning.” Margot says, chuckling through a little sob as Alana shifts her head a little and kisses her wife soundly. She pulls away to wipe away a stray tear, happy to see that this time her wife is crying only happy tears at the sight of a very lively baby.

The child stops his agitated sniffles for a minute, he was still getting acquainted with his new surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes blink open and Alana swears her whole world stops for a moment when those blue eyes meet hers for the first time.

“Those look familiar, huh?” Margot asks with a little smile, repositioning her arms so Alana could hold the baby closer to her chest.

“I see you in him too,” Alana interjects, touching her son’s little button nose with a single finger before rubbing a few fingers through the thin strands of hair close to his soft and squishy scalp. “He clearly has your nose and hair.”

Margot hums an agreement before their son closes his eyes again, just comfortable in his mother's embrace and mewls little sounds. “We have good genes.”

She presses a gentle kiss to his forehead before she places him with the utmost care back into his little mobile crib. The nurse comes back in to wheel him into his own rightful chambers before checking Alana’s IVs and bandaged stomach. “You’re so good with him. Already.” Alana says, Margot settling into the chair closest to her bed and running a comforting fingers through her dark messy bangs.

“You are too. We’re going to be _mothers_. We _are_ mothers _now_.” Margot says, tasting the words aloud. She was so used to using future tense during her wife’s pregnancy. She still couldn’t believe the events of the day. The events of the past nine months. Just simply _meeting_ the other woman in her stables nearly a year ago and now sitting in a hospital room with a baby, _their baby_ , just a mere room away.

“I want to question that weird look in your eye but I’m too tired,” Alana slurs, her hold on the other woman’s hands loosening as her eyelids droop. Margot smiles, amused with her wife’s sleepy behavior.

“What weird look?” she asks, squeezing Alana’s hand a little to get her attention. She wanted to know what her wife was on about before she lost her to sleep.

“You look like you’re really, really far away in a really nice place.” Alana explains slowly, her words thick with effort. She sounded extremely drugged, which made sense due to her whole body being heavily sedated from her previous C-section.

“I _am_ in a really nice place,” Margot interjects with a smile, bringing her hand up to trace little kisses across the knuckles of Alana’s hand. “And it looks like you’re heading for a really nice place too.”

Alana does eventually land in her happy place, dozing off in seconds as she slumps against the sterile hospital pillows. Margot presses a soft kiss to Alana’s forehead, careful not to disturb her snoring form before quietly easing her way out of the room to go look at their son some more. She was getting tired of meandering through the hospital hallways, sleeping in the bland hospital room with the other mother of her child, and staring into the extremely bright room of her son’s unit. She was just itching to break out of the hospital to bring both her son and wife home, anxiously excited to begin raising her son in a completely happy and loved environment back at Muskrat Farms. Entirely different from the childhood she had.

She knew they would be able to leave the hospital soon, once her wife made a quick recovery. She expected it wouldn’t take no more than two more days. Her wife was able to survive getting pushed out of a window and then a mere year and half later birthing her own child _for her_. Her wife was the strongest person she has _ever_ known.

 


	2. love's a game, wanna play?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana and Margot engage in a little disagreement but enjoy it's aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had published this as a standalone oneshot, but I feel like it has a better home in this series. I have edited it slightly and added a few more details here and there so it's not entirely the same from the old work.

Alana grit her teeth together for the hundredth time in the past five minutes, her jaw screaming in pain almost as loud as Margot was inches away from her face.

“Jesus! You are so stubborn, it’s ridiculous! Do you choose to block me out? This is probably your way of being passive-aggressive!” Margot suggests in a yell, volume no longer a concern for their infant son sleeping in the next room.

“Enough, Margot. Stop putting words in my mouth. The only one being stubborn about this is you!” Alana shouts back, throwing her hands up in the air to emphasis her point.

Margot cocks her head back in surprise and widens her eyes. “Me? I’m being stubborn? Well at least I’m not a fool!”

Alana winces before settling her jaw, slightly narrowing her eyes. She could deal with this little argument and insults amongst yells she could handle, but that one hurt.

“Then maybe this fool should take a breather.” Alana suggests in a quiet huff, walking over to the adjoined massive walk-in closet in the master bedroom to grab her coat. Margot is already regretting her words, running a hand through the roots of her hair in frustration.

“Alana, wait. Don’t go, I didn’t mean that. Just listen to me for one second. Please.” Margot tries, voice softer in tone and slightly hoarse from all the previous yelling. It was a miracle their napping son hadn’t been awoken.

“I’m going to the library for a little bit, I’ll come back after we’ve both calmed down.” The older woman explains herself quickly, gathering her keys now that she had thrown on her winter coat.

Margot stops her at the bedroom door, a resisting hand over the pane of wood. Alana can feel her wife’s intense gaze on her face, her whole body flaring from the microscopic stare. “Stay. We need to talk about this. It’s therapeutic.”

That causes Alana to meet the green eyed gaze, her blue eyes narrowed. “Well it’s also therapeutic for some space.”

She can see the fear behind her wife’s eyes, her eyebrows raising slightly as her eyes widen. It hurt Alana to think that Margot thought she’d actually leave. For good.

Alana sighs heavily before quickly pressing a quick kiss of reassurance to one of Margot’s pale cheeks, stealing the door from her grip. “I’ll be back later.”

 

* * *

 

 

She stays at the Baltimore Public Library for an hour and a half, regretting every minute. The library at home had a better selection anyway. She spent that hour and half by pulling random books from the massive shelves, books on leadership skills severely outdated from the 70s, that one was more for her own personal amusement, and books on different psychological theories, just to get back into the swing of things. She couldn’t get lost in the words very long so she just sat in her car in the parking lot for a good half hour, thinking about Margot. Thinking about their son. Replaying their previous fight over and over.

Truthfully, Alana was mostly upset over the topic of their fight. She had to admit the other woman made some good conflicting points about taking the head position at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Of course, she’d be away from her wife and son for longer periods of time. And the obvious: she’d be in the same facility with the man who had indirectly caused her pelvis to shatter. The same man who has caused her ridiculously high amounts of pain, both emotional and physical. Margot seemed to view all the negatives rather than the positives. Alana had tried to get the other woman to see why she wanted this job so badly, it would give her the peace of mind from the captor of her thoughts. With her having all the keys to Hannibal’s cell, she would know fully that he was taken care of. Far from grasp of the things she cared about the most.

She spends the whole drive home thinking of her wife’s words: _“He has promised to kill you. I was right there with you when he made that promise. Do you even care? Are you even taking this seriously? Do you want him to kill you? And to take you away from me? And away from our son?”_

With a frustrated shake of her head, she turns onto the long paved driveway of the entrance to Muskrat Farms. Her wife knew how to get a rise out of her, pushing her buttons just so until she just breaks and is forced to reach a decision. That decision usually being Margot’s own personal one. Alana knew her wife took her choices seriously and valued her decisions of life, but her wife could also be very stubborn.

She sees her wife and child through the window as she approaches the front door, Morgan already in his bib and getting fed by Margot some baby food from a jar in his highchair. She will never grow tired how of well motherhood looks on her wife, she is truly the most happiest she has ever seen the woman in all of the two years she had known her. She smiles at the sight before walking into the door, trudging snow in as she strips off her coat. She trudges up the stairs to hang up the coat back in its rightful spot in the large closet, kicking off her shoes and flinging off her tight bra as well. Breastfeeding was a pain in the ass.

She keeps on her day clothes, suit trousers and a button-down blouse, before bounding down the stairs for dinner. Margot doesn’t look at her immediately, still trying to get their son to eat his liquefied carrots. He refuses, his face squirming in disgust as he reaches his little hands out to Alana. She shifts over from her seat to smooth over his thin light brown strands of hair close to his scalp, rubbing the soft skin comfortingly.

“What’s the matter, buddy?” she coos, trying to assist her wife with the task of feeding the infant.

Margot sighs heavily, dropping the child’s spoon onto the ceramic tabletop of the highchair. “He wants more milk.”

She gets up without another glance to the other woman as she saunters over to the nearby kitchen, searching the fridge for more bottles of Alana’s breastmilk. Alana turns from Margot’s retreating backside to look to her child’s eyes, looking so much like her own light blues.

“Both of your mother’s would really appreciate it if you ate your carrots, buddy. Mommy especially since you kind of really hurt her boobs.” Alana says softly to her child with a wince at the thought of her aching breasts, picking up the spoon to try to feed Morgan once again.

He just gurgles and giggles happily, not understanding a word his mother was saying. Margot returns from the kitchen, hands empty of a bottle. “Would you ever be so inclined to feed him?”

Alana groans, refusing the request by getting up from her seat to head over to the nearby bar to fix herself a drink to go with her dinner. “Can’t you do it? All the books said you should also be able to produce milk. I need a break.”

She can feel Margot’s daggers for eyes dig into her back as she pours white wine into a glass, the liquid glugging from the opening of the bottle being the only cause of noise besides the sound of French dialogue coming from Margot’s cellphone stationed on the dining table next to the baby’s highchair, playing a random old Bill Nye episode. Margot insisted that their son should have more diverse culture in his life and Alana wanted their son to be the smartest kid in his whole future school. It was a win-win situation for both mothers. The staggering silence coming from the younger woman proved that an hour and a half of solitude had still not subsided Margot’s bad mood.

“Of course, dearest. It’s not like I do everything else around here.” Margot mutters, opening the upperpart of her shirt with a flick of her wrist. She gathers the baby in her arms before adjusting his head a little, Morgan clutching at the hem on her shirt. Alana takes a seat across from her, setting her glass down and applying most of her attention to her meal.

“Well maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, you wouldn’t have to do most of everything else around here if the other person involved had their own career.” Alana interjects with a mutter, toying with her peas on the fine china plate.

“Perhaps the other person involved shouldn’t take a job in the first place. We already have more than enough of a strong income for this household.” Margot fires back, eyes blazing across the table. It was a strange sight to look at, her face entirely rigid with attention and fury while her lower body was calm and collected, as their child sucked away happily at Margot’s partially clothed chest.

“Perhaps the person should be supportive no matter what, they made a vow after all.” Alana says with a clenched jaw, making a point to cut her food with her left hand as her wedding ring shimmered from the golden glow of the massive chandelier above the table. 

Margot narrows her eyes, tightening her hold on the little body swaddled in front of her. “I am supportive of you no matter what. But as your wife, I’m also inclined to advise you on certain choices. For better or worse.”

Alana scoffs, tossing her knife away from her grip with a clatter to the table, grabbing for her drink for a long gulp. “I thought I gave you enough time but you are still acting irrational. Why can’t you see this is a good thing? Not just for me but also for you! Both of you!” Alana insists after she finishes her wine.

The heiress laughs hollowly, the vibration disrupting Morgan at her chest and the child wails into a mewl. “And how is Hannibal Lecter being in the same vicinity with you a good thing for our family?”

The older woman clears her throat with a smile, more than ready to prove her point to the stubborn woman. “I would sleep better knowing his cell keys were in my pocket. I won’t be completely satisfied without the sight of him in a cell chamber, with no chance of escape. I can only do this if I am in charge of his wellbeing at the institution.”

Alana watches the gears work behind Margot’s eyes, the other woman considering her words. She only breaks her gaze to assist Morgan, who was done feeding at the moment. With one hand, she fixes her shirt back into place and rocks the baby bundled in her arms back and forth slightly. Alana’s eyes flick from the swaying child back to Margot, awaiting a rebuttal.

Margot simply purses her painted lips, processing her words. “He will taunt you relentlessly. I don’t know why you want to be subject to that on a daily basis.”

Alana simply smirks, gathering both their cleared plates. She drops a quick kiss to the crown of the younger woman’s head and a ruffle to her sleeping son’s head with her free hand as she walks over into the kitchen to wash the dirty plates. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” She tosses over her shoulder, bending down with slightly pained effort to put away the plates in the dishwasher.

She can feel the other woman’s eyes on her backside, her skin flushing with heat at her wife’s blatant watchful stare. “Yes, you most certainly can.” Margot murmurs flirtatiously, gathering the sleeping baby fully in her arms as she exits the dining room to put him down for bed in his nursery upstairs. Alana sighs heavily once she rises up from the dishwasher, both in release from the strain on her back and in gratitude for her wife’s positive mood change.

Alana heads upstairs to join the other woman by the nursery’s crib, both mothers watching the sleeping form of their child. “This fighting probably isn’t good for him at all. I want him to grow up in a better environment than I did.”

The older woman knew exactly what her wife was talking about. Margot’s parents didn’t love each other, they probably would’ve divorced each other sooner if it hadn’t been for the untimely deaths of both of them.

“We’re different. We do love each other. He just has a very stubborn mother.” Alana interjects, clasping Margot’s hand with her own on the railing of the crib.

Margot smirks, reaching over to flip on the glow-in-the-dark overhead decoration above Morgan’s crib before leading Alana to their master suite. “If I’m the stubborn one, what does that make you?” Margot purrs into a question once the bedroom door is shut, Alana pressed against it.

“You tell me,” Alana huffs before connecting her lips to plush painted ones, tasting Margot’s lipstick away. Margot moans into her mouth, wrapping her arms around the waist pressed against her own.

“You know, one good thing to come out of our rare scrimmages is the fantastic makeup sex we have.” Margot notes once they break apart for air, Alana pressing desperate little kisses to her neck. The other woman merely hums in response, the vibrations feeling magnificent against the hollow of Margot’s exposed neck.

Suddenly, Margot leads the other body to the vanity, taking Alana by her hips and flipping her over. Alana understands where this is going and is already leaning over against the oak material, hands splaying on the tabletop for leverage as Margot grinds her front into Alana’s backside.

Alana arches her head up, lips parting for a loud release of a moan before remembering their sleeping baby in the next room. It doesn’t help that Margot now wraps an arm around the front of her chest, hands fumbling in-between buttons for the contact with Alana’s breasts. Buttons are popped and threads are ripped, Alana tries to stop any further damage with a grip to the other woman’s hand, currently massaging her left breast. “Easy. I like this shirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Margot promises before ripping the rest of the pinstripe blouse with hidden force, lips surging forward to kiss the newly exposed shoulder blade and neck. Alana arches her head back with a throaty moan, overcome with the adoration her wife was applying to her naked skin. “Margot, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I'm sorry for leaving, I didn't even get any work done when I was gone. I hate when we fight, I don’t mean to-“ she tries to ramble into a breathy desperate apology, Margot shushing her with a fierce kiss to her lips.

“Shh it’s okay, we’re okay. Let me show you how sorry I am.” Margot purrs once their lips break apart, nibbling on her left ear lobe and shifting her kisses down Alana’s blotchy neck, marked with lipstick stains and blooming bruises.

Margot smooths a hand across a pale exposed stomach, marked by few stretch marks and surgical scars before quickly unzipping Alana’s slacks and applying pressure to the warm and slick moisture she finds there. She emphasizes her strokes with the buck of her hips, grinding into the other woman’s bottom to perfectly match the rhythm of her fingers. Alana comes in minutes, a bit quicker than both had intended. She wasn’t even embarrassed, the events of the day had boiled up inside her in the best way possible for release.

She couldn’t wait to help her wife find her own personal release, gathering herself up from her crumpled position on the vanity. She opts to take Margot on the bed, her hips were killing her from the long period of time she spent standing. She kicks out of her slacks and Margot follows suit, stepping out of her billowy skirt and flinging her wrap shirt up and over her head.

Alana practically flops back onto the large bed, settling herself on the pillows as she basks in the sight of Margot crawling over her bare body. She cranes her head up to meet the other woman’s lips, winding her arms around her wife’s shoulders and flexing the muscles of Margot’s subtly prominent biceps.

“As much as I love having you in this position, I’m going to need you to be further up, my love.” Alana gently orders, smoothing her hands down bare sides to grip at Margot’s hipbones. Margot takes the hint and with a final peck to Alana’s now bare lips, she slides up the other woman’s body to rest her knees of both sides of her wife’s head.

She uses one hand to grip Alana’s dark tresses of hair and the other hand to grip the headboard, her forehead surging forward to lean against the wood material of the board as she practically rides Alana’s tongue below. She has to bite down on her forearm to avoid waking their son, the woman’s tongue pleasuring her in all the right ways before she can’t help but fling her head back and moan hoarsely. Her voice was practically shot and more raspy than usual from all the yelling she did earlier.

She carefully removes herself from Alana’s face and her wife is grinning victoriously below as she settles herself in the sheets next to the warm body, slightly slick with sweat and other bodily fluids. Alana’s chin is shiny in the pale moonlight in the dim bedroom and Margot dabs away at the moisture gathered on her lower face with the edge of the silk pillowcase affectionately before cuddling closer.

Alana repositions herself, her arms propped behind her head with her chin slightly outstretched as Margot wraps her arms around her wife’s bare middle beneath the sheets. Margot imagines how they look, outside looking in. Alana probably feels victorious, she did have a way with words and getting Margot to agree with her. Although her wife was very much whipped, Margot would never admit she had her whipped moments as well.

“I’m sorry for calling you a fool.” Margot says softly once the desperate pants simmer, tracing one of Alana’s scars on her lower back behind her left hip.

The older woman hums in response, nuzzling her head closer to the other woman’s temple. Her dark hair tickles her face, causing little goosebumps to rise on Margot’s forearms beneath the silk sheets.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. And for leaving. I hate fighting with you.” Alana says, removing one arm from behind her head to cradle Margot’s jaw. She seals her apology with a sweet kiss, Margot breaking apart with a heavenly sigh before cuddling even closer under Alana’s chin.

“Don't apologize for that. You needed space, that was normal." Margot insists, her voice vibrating against Alana's collarbone.

"You know I'll always come home to you, you know that right? I'm staying for good, no matter what," Alana promises, smoothing her left hand up and down her wife's exposed flesh of her back.

Margot smiles so big her cheeks hurt at her wife's heartwarming promise. "Alright Mrs. Verger-Bloom, no more arguing unless it’s over who gets to take out the trash. Or who gets to be the top.” Margot proposes, a mischievous smirk at the last part.

“In that case, it’s my turn.” Alana states with a grin, pushing her weight up on her hands against the mattress, flipping herself over on top of Margot’s body and relishes in the delighted yet surprised squeal she receives as a response from her wife below. In seconds, they’re rolling around on their massive bed, continuing what they started minutes ago. Margot’s last thought before Alana’s slides a hand further down her body is that perhaps they should create fake little fights more often. The end result was much more fun to deal with.


	3. starry eyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Alana's 37th birthday and Margot sets out to make her day extra special with the help of Morgan.

If the reason behind waking up early was because of a slightly hard impact to the head, Alana would usually be very upset with the culprit. Due to said culprit being her son’s forehead, she was only moderately upset with that equation.

“Oomph, hey little guy.” Alana grumbles groggily, rubbing her left temple soothingly before gathering her son into her arms. He simply crawls and squirms in her lap on top of the sheets, Margot appearing by her side in a matter of seconds with a fruit platter arrangement with one hand.

“Happy birthday, honey! I guess Morgan already gave you his present,” the younger woman muses, placing the food platter on the side table before prying the grumbled sheet of construction paper from the toddler’s grasp.

“What’s this?” Alana asks, the child gurgling and cooing incoherently as he points excitedly to random scribbles on the page. Alana understood a little of what he was saying, he was a year and a half now. She could catch the ends of his words, and once she said the full word aloud he was usually able to repeat it back.

“Ook!” Morgan squalled, gesturing to a blob on the paper. The larger brown blob was holding a slightly smaller blob, while a little stick figure was next to the large brown blob. Alana had to use her context clues to decipher what her son was aiming for: a picture of the two reading a book, an activity Alana loved doing with her son. Margot had moved over to the empty side of the bed, resting her head on Alana’s shoulder to admire their child’s drawing.

“Book?” Alana questioned, tapping the object on the paper her son was currently obsessing over.

Her suggestion pleases the child, bobbing up and down on her leg and grabbing at her pajama pants excitedly. Margot giggles into the other woman’s dark hair, reaching over to hug the infectiously sweet boy closer to her.

“Moo-Bear likes it when his mommy reads to him, doesn’t he? I don’t blame you, her voice is almost as beautiful as herself,” Margot coos to the child, Morgan reaching up to grab at the ends of her long brown curls.

The older woman hides her blush into the edge of the pillow, the side of her face hidden by Margot’s shoulder pressed closely by her own. “You guys are the best. Thank you for making my morning so nice.”

She places the picture over on the side table before grabbing a few random berries, settling back comfortably on the pillows as Margot turns to face her on the lower half of the bed. She sits with her legs crossed, bouncing their boy a little on her lap. Alana tosses a blueberry to Margot, catching it easily with her mouth.

“So what does the birthday girl want to do today? Your choice,” Margot says after she smacks on the berry, trying to steal one from Alana’s hand to feed to Morgan. Alana makes sure to bite it in half before handing it over to prevent the child from choking on the small fruit.

Settling her head on the pillows in contemplation, she thinks about a possible outing the family could do for her 37th birthday. She would be more than okay with hanging around the house, maybe a carriage ride around the property and feeding the ducks over on the pond. However, she did like getting out of the house every now and then, she was sure Morgan would like a public outing too.

“How about the museum? There’s this new space exhibit I wanted to check out. You wanna go see the planets, buddy?” Alana asks excitedly, reaching over to tickle her son’s stomach. She knew her son loved looking through her books in the home library, pointing to the various pictures constellations and Alana explaining to him all of their names.

He nods and gurgles excitedly, grasping at his other mother’s hands curled around his middle. Margot fondly rolls her eyes, she wasn’t really interested in going to the museum but it wasn’t her day to decide their destination. “I am surrounded by nerds.”

Alana slides onto her stomach to join the other two on the lower half of the bed, her cheek meeting the mattress to play with her son on her side. He crawls over to her, she sneaks an arm around his tummy to hold him to her front. He pats a hand to her cheek and she takes it to press tons of kisses to his fist, Margot watching the adorable sight with heartwarming eyes.

“But we’re so cute, we’re very cute nerds.” Alana insists, nuzzling her head to a patch of light brown baby hair, both blue eyes meeting green. Alana swears she can see Margot physically melt at the sight.

“You’re both my very cute little nerds. I’m going to get him ready and let you sleep in a little longer, birthday girl.” Margot states, grabbing Morgan to hitch onto her hip before planting a quick kiss on Alana’s lips before she could interject about her morning breath.

She was right, Alana was already whining before their lips even broke. “Margoooooot! Morning breath!” Her complaints were useless, Margot was already heading out the bedroom door with a wicked laugh.

 

* * *

 

 

“Aren’t you glad he can’t walk without our help yet? He’d probably be running all over the place,” Alana notes as she helps her son hop up the museum steps with one hand as Margot had the other.

Margot pouts as she grabs a few informational pamphlets on the wall, passing one over to her wife. “I don’t want to think about him walking yet. He needs to stay a baby forever,” Margot insists, helping her son up in her arms so he can get a better look at the large model of Mars, his favorite planet.

“He will be our baby forever,” Alana states, coming over to nuzzle his cheek before looking up to the clay model, pointing out to her son all its craters and valleys.

Margot didn’t complain at all during their whole trip at the museum, letting her wife have a fun day even if it wasn’t her own personal definition of fun. At the gift shop, Alana picks out a portable telescope for Morgan and a Neptune shirt for her wife, Margot’s personal favorite planet. Margot remembered telling her wife that personal fun fact back during the early part of their relationship, it caused a flush of warm fondness in her chest that Alana had remembered.

“We should have a little stargazing sleepover tonight to test this thing out,” Margot suggests in the car, turning the telescope box over in her hands.

Alana hums in acknowledgement, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and allowing herself to look into the rearview mirror to see how her son felt about the proposition.

“What do you think, Moo-Bear? You want to camp out in the woods tonight?” Alana asks, Margot groaning. She hadn’t signed up for a full on campout in the backyard.

Morgan squeals excitedly, his little legs kicking up from his child car seat. Alana grins victoriously at Margot, the younger woman crossing her arms with a huff.

“You can stay in the tent with him. I will gladly sleep in the air conditioned comfort of the guesthouse,” Margot states matter-of-factly as Alana turns on the large driveway path to Muskrat Farms. Once inside, Alana puts their son down for his usual afternoon nap and Margot makes sure to tell the staff to make sure the outdoor guesthouse is well-stocked and to prepare a tent for the Verger-Bloom family’s spontaneous stargazing party.

She makes her way over to the master suite, taking advantage of her son’s sleeping ritual to give her wife another one of her presents. She scrolls through her drawer of delicates, finally finding the lingerie set she had previously purchased a few days prior for this specific activity. She takes her time slipping into the outfit, doing up her stockings in the mirror. She studies the reflection for a few more moments, her hands coming up to skim at the scar on her lower stomach. Another pair of arms come up behind her, Alana’s profile appearing through the reflection in the vanity mirror. Margot jumps a little, the other woman turning her over by the waist to face her.

“This was supposed to be a surprise, you can’t just sneak up on a girl like that.” Margot insists with a pout, Alana chuckling before taking the pouted lower lip between her own.

“Sorry. Forgive me?” Alana murmurs into a question, winding her arms fully around the half-dressed woman.

Margot leads them over to the bed, the backs of Alana hitting the mattress before Margot forces her into a sitting position so she can straddle her lap. Icy blues quickly turned dilated and Alana was already desperately panting into Margot’s ear as she kissed down her neck, her fingers working to undo her jean buttons. Alana had opted for a casual look for their family outing today, still looking marvelous in simple black jeans and a red cashmere sweater.

“You look…so…wow. I feel underdressed,” Alana huffs as she squeezes the backs of Margot’s thighs and fumbles with the garter stockings.

“You should be. You are very overdressed,” Margot interjects, her voice deep and gravely as it vibrates into Alana’s inner thighs, sliding down the other woman’s jeans and removing them completely.

“U-u-up here, please. I want to see you,” Alana says, her voice on the edge of breaking just as Margot begins to settle between her bare thighs.

“Very well.” Margot obeys and crawls back up, meeting the pair of lips below hers with a happy muffled sigh as Alana wraps her arms around her shoulders and squeezes the muscles there. Margot slips a knee in between the one underneath, her kneecap meeting delicious slick heat. Alana has to grip Margot’s shoulders as she grinds and rolls into the other woman’s kneecap, their lips pressed for a searing kiss to prevent her from waking up their napping son.

After Alana calms from her high, she looks up to Margot smirking smugly above her. “Does the birthday girl have any other requests?”

Alana grins as she flips them over, taking a bit more effort than usual, but Margot helps make the job easier by settling her weight onto the pillows and guiding her wife’s hands to grip her waist. “I do. I just want you.”

Margot sighs heavenly as Alana buries her head into her neck, ghosting kisses across the expanse of her exposed skin there before they both hear a wailing cry. Alana groans in frustration as Margot slides from underneath her to get up from the bed, grabbing her robe off its perch of the vanity. Alana gets up to trudge over to the dressers to grab a big t-shirt, sauntering lazily back over to the bed with a flop to the massive mattress.

She flips on the TV to a children’s channel, knowing Margot would probably bring Morgan into their room after his shortened nap. She watches the screen mindlessly, the colorful cartoons and simple script amusing her before Margot comes back into the room moments later, hands empty of a child.

Eyebrows raised questioningly, Margot smirks victoriously as she shuts the door. “I got him back to bed in under five minutes. I’m amazing.”

Alana grins, nodding impressively at her wife’s motherly abilities. She raises her head up, her eyes soaking up the sight of the younger woman removing her robe slowly and hanging it back up, her green eyes gleaming over her shoulder to meet Alana’s blatant stare. She practically skips back over to her spot on the bed, cuddling up into her wife’s awaiting arms.

“I wish I could do that. He’s like a ticking time bomb,” Alana muses, hands skimming up and down Margot’s back.

“He’s a very cute ticking time bomb, you have to give him that. Honey, what on earth are you watching?” she asks, noticing the high-pitch kid voices from the television speaker.

“I thought you were going to bring him back in here! Well, before I knew about your superhuman abilities to calm children down was able to put him back down for a nap.” Alana admits sheepishly, Margot giggling into her dark hair before swinging a leg over to straddle the other woman’s waist. She still couldn’t get over having someone so good in her life to remind her of her positive qualities and attributes, a concept so foreign to her before.

Alana fumbles a hand across the silk sheets to find the remote, pressing a button to turn the plasma screen black and to slide back into its hidden spot built in the bottom of the bedframe before chucking the remote back over on the bedside table.

Margot runs her hands up and down Alana’s bare sides under her large shirt, feeling the other woman’s gaze on her face. Her hands are caught by the other pair of hands, Alana’s bringing her knuckles up to skim a kiss across them. “I had a really good day, Margot. Thank you for everything.”

The older woman emphasizes her words by hooking an arm around her wife’s waist, cradling her to her front so they can both turn onto their sides. Margot nuzzles her head under the bottom of Alana’s oversized t-shirt so she can also get inside, much to Alana’s amusement.

“Oh wait!” Margot starts, pulling away from the bed and dragging Alana with her. Margot smiles sheepishly at the other woman before continuing to slide over to her side of the bed, getting a sleek black velvet box from the side table drawer. Alana laughs hysterically the whole way before Margot settles back properly inside the large shirt, her bare chest pressed against Alana’s.

“Your last real present from me,” Margot explains quickly before passing the small box over to Alana’s hands, resting comfortably on top of her wife’s chest so Alana can use the armholes to open the box.

Alana gasps a little, shimmering emerald jewels meeting her train of sight. “Margot, this is way too much.”

“Actually,” Margot starts, “Nothing is too much for you. It’s my intention to spoil you because you deserve it, deal with it.”

Alana turns the bejeweled necklace over in her hands, the weighted jewels sitting comfortably in her palm. “I couldn’t wear this to work, Hannibal would have a field day with the sight of me in this.” She could already envision his comments about her newfound wealth and being Margot’s trophy wife.

“You could wear it, and I mean _only_ it, around the house, just for my eyes. I’d like that very much,” Margot purrs with a wiggle of her eyebrows, Alana narrowing her eyes a little at her before laughing at the sight of her flirtatious wife. She carefully places the accessory back into its rightful spot before putting the box onto the side table. “Thank you, Margot. It’s gorgeous, really. I don’t know how to top this for your birthday,” Alana murmurs, tightening her hold around Margot’s waist under the shirt.

“You’ve already given me so much, you could just put a bow on your head and I’d accept you gladly.” Margot says truthfully, pressing a little peck to Alana’s lips. She tries deepening it but Margot pulls away with a laugh, hoisting herself out from under the shirt and hopping off the bed.

“Come on, lazypants! We have to get ready for the Verger-Bloom’s annual spontaneous stargazing party!” Margot insists, throwing on denim jeans and a sweater made of white wool. Alana loved seeing her wife in casual clothes, no longer dressing in dark tones due to the newfound light in her life.

Alana grumbles into the edge of the pillow, tightening her hold on the silk sheets that smelled so much like her wife. She considers the other woman’s words as Margot excuses herself to the adjoined master bathroom. “Margot! That doesn’t even make any sense! It contradicts itself, annual and spontaneous. Annual means it happens yearly while spontaneous means randomly.”

Margot exits the bathroom, flicking off the light with a smirk. “If you stop being a smartass, I might let you get another present later.” She winks before turning on her heel, leaving the bedroom to head downstairs. Alana practically flies out of the bed, sending the pillows and sheets flying as she frantically tries to find appropriate clothes for the campout session.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re supposed to be looking at the stars,” Alana says softly, feeling the burn of her wife’s gaze on the side of her face. She pretends to be helping Morgan with his telescope for a few moments before Margot tugs her back into place next to her side by the back of her pajama shirt.

“I can’t help it. There’s something much prettier than the stars occupying my attention span,” Margot purrs, flirty in tone but with serious intentions. Alana feels a blush crawling up her cheeks, grateful that the other woman has shifted her focused to their son.

Margot kisses his forehead and ruffles his hair, the boy quickly hugging her before turning excitedly back to his telescope. “You know where I’ll be. You two have fun out here, night night!”

“Nigh nigh, Mama!” Morgan coos into an exclamation, prompting another squeeze of adoration before Margot unzips the tent to head to the nearby guesthouse. Alana cuddles closer on the large sleeping bag to look up at the large see-through screen above, the stars glimmering in a pitch black sky.

“Oreo!” Morgan says, clutching the telescope’s shaft to zoom in on the lens. “Orion,” Alana gently corrects, noticing exactly what her son meant. The constellation shone brightly in the sky, she mentally connected the dots before warmth met her side.

The mother and son cuddle contently into each other, simply observing the sky and listening to the peaceful noises of the night. Owls were very active, constantly hooting to each other in the forest that surrounded the property.

Morgan clutches Alana’s pajama shirt, his face smothering into her side. “I’m scared.”

Alana coos softly, wrapping an arm around the smaller body to comfort the boy. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, it’s just owls. They’re harmless. Even if they weren’t harmless, I’d still wouldn’t let them hurt you.”

Her answer pleases the child slightly, his face still buried into her side but his grip lessens on her shirt. “Morgan, your mother and I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.” Her voice may be secure in sound, but she raises her pinky to secure her promise, his trembling little finger meeting her halfway. The minuscule act meant more to the child than it did to her, but she wanted to make sure he understood her words.

The tiny body still clung to her side, new noises making an appearance miles away. Alana hears a howl of a coyote, the sound far away but did nothing to ease her son’s worries. “You want to go inside?”

The grateful nod she gets in return answers her question, so she gathers up her boy in her arms with pained effort once they get out of the tent. Morgan grabs his portable telescope and stuffed bunny, they could deal with taking down the tent in the morning. She tightens her grip on her son’s little legs hitched at her hip, her back screaming in pain the whole trip to the guesthouse. She could handle a little pain if it meant her son felt more safe and comfortable in one of his mother’s arms.

Margot props her head on the couch’s headrest once they come inside the guesthouse, indulging in a little reality TV. “What’s wrong?”

Alana lets down Morgan gratefully, the little boy dropping his telescope off by the door before scampering over to join his other mother on the large leather couch. “Nothing’s wrong, he just got a little freaked out by the noises outside.”

The younger mother scoops up her child before helping him change the channel to his favorite cartoon show, nuzzling her cheek on top of light brown hair. “I think he just wanted to be closer to his mama.”

Morgan giggles and squirms in her affectionate grasp, flapping his mother’s nose with one of his bunny’s large ears. Alana stretches her arms, rolling out the muscles in her lower back and shoulder blades before joining her family on the couch. She really needed to apply the exercises she learned in her physical therapy sessions more often.

Alana ends up falling asleep first, the day’s events exhausting her to maximum. Morgan succumbs to sleep next, curling up in between her body and Margot’s. The younger woman felt a surge of fondness in her chest, the same feeling she got when she first saw Alana meet their baby and whenever she witnessed the two interact. She cradles her son’s stuffed rabbit closer to her chest, overcome with the feeling of connection. It may be Alana’s birthday, a day filled with many gifts, but Alana gave Margot the greatest gift of all: a family.


	4. i'll take care of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana and Margot have a long and hard day at work. Their private time at home fixes all of the workday's troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially just porn without plot (okay maybe just a liiiiitle amount of plot) and I'm not even sorry.

 Alana was having a bad day. A really bad day.

First, she woke up before her alarm even went off due to her wife’s cold feet pressed up against her calves, causing her to awake due to the chilly skin. She wasn’t able to fall back asleep after that so she grumbled all the way to the bathroom, letting the hot water from the shower wake her completely.

Then, Applesauce managed to have an accident on her son’s bed so she had to deal with stripping all of his sheets to do a load of laundry all while trying to get ready for work and also prepare her son’s breakfast. He was very sweet about the unfortunate situation, helping his mother pile all the sheets and his comforter into the laundry room to prepare for wash. Alana was grateful for her son’s help but also a little upset over Applesauce’s predicament, her canine companion was getting old.

Finally, after enjoying a quick breakfast with her boy, her wife finally decided to wake up as they headed out the door. Margot helps put on her son’s little backpack onto his shoulders and passes his matching lunchbox to him out the door, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry if my cold feet woke you up,” she apologizes with a sympathetic smile, handing Alana her own premade lunch and work briefcase by the large front door.

“You heard me bitch and moan?” Alana asks, gathering her keys in the foyer as Morgan skips along the path outside the house that lead to the driveway.

“Before I fell back into a blissful sleep, yes I did hear you complain. That’s a quarter to the swear jar, dear.” Margot orders gently, kissing her wife’s cheek as Alana huffs and puffs in exasperation.

“He can’t even hear me!” she protests, hobbling out the door before Margot could interject.

“Hey, don’t forget you have a physical therapy appointment this afternoon at 1:30! Love you!” Margot calls out from the house entrance, tightening her robe around her waist against the chilly outdoor wind.

“Love you too, Mama!” Morgan calls back once Alana rolls down his car window a little, she chooses to honk the car horn for her own response that elicits an infectious giggle from her son as they head off to their rightful destinations.

Margot headed inside after watching her wife and son speed off the driveway, shutting out the frosty wind with a click of the door before bounding up the stairs for a much needed warm shower. She was hopping on the balls of her feet against the cold tile of her master bathroom, she really should install those heat tile warmers she had enjoyed at a hotel once for a business trip. She could certainly afford to do so.

She slides the glass shower door back and hops into the shower gratefully, the warm water cascading down her bare skin and warming away the numbness from the effects of the cold air that surrounded the family farm. Winter was approaching, Margot hoped the season would pass quickly. She couldn’t wait for springtime.

Suddenly, the water turned from comfortably warm, to lukewarm, to completely cold. Shouting a slew of profanities, she shuts the water off and quickly jumps out of the shower. As she winds a fluffy towel around her chest, shampoo still dripping down her scalp, Margot internally and externally fumes. “Goddammit, Alana!”

She wishes Alana was here so she could chew out the troublemaker herself, but opts to send cryptic and curt text messages to her wife at work, she would deal with scolding Alana for using up all the hot water later. With a frustrated little sigh, Margot walks all the way over to the first floor guest bathroom, her wet skin covered in goosebumps from the mansion’s chilly AC.

 

* * *

 

 

It seemed like her frustrations followed Alana to work. First, had to deal with Hannibal and his usual annoyingly familiar taunts. The beer comment still made her skin crawl. Then, she had to deal with Dr. Frederick Chilton making his presence known at her institution, she had to physically suppress the urge to roll her eyes when she walked into her office with the former administrator of the asylum propped up all mightily in her desk chair. And to top it all off, Margot had been sending her angry texts all day. She racks her brain for the possible things she may have done recently that would make her get on her wife’s bad side but she came up empty. If anything, Alana should be the sender of angry texts. Margot had rudely awakened her at an ungodly hour this morning.

She gets out of work early, it was her turn to pick up Morgan from school and Margot had a long meeting today anyway. She was too lazy and tired to prepare a proper dinner for her son so she stops at a McDonald’s drive thru on the way home, making her son pinky promise that he wouldn’t tell his other mother about their unhealthy fast food excursion.

Morgan runs off to go play independently in his room once they arrive back the house so Alana trudges up the stairs to the house’s library, plopping herself down on the brown leather couch with a huff. She fumbles a lazy hand to her scalp, practically ripping the pins that held up her usual updo out and chucking them to the floor, then running a few fingers through the tender hair cascading long down her shoulders. She tries going over a few paperwork files for Hannibal’s cell but felt sleep fighting behind her eyelids. She slides the papers away on the side table and flops her head back on the couch, indulging for a quick nap before she had to tuck her son in for bed in a few hours.

 

* * *

 

 

Alana wakes up to an insistent tug on her slacks, she was still in the red suit she wore to work that day. Morgan’s hair was sticking up in all directions and his blue eyes gleamed in the dim room, the only light source was coming from the library’s fireplace.

“What is it, buddy?” she asks groggily, reaching a hand out to smooth over his hair to fix the ruffles. Her bleary vision, still bogged by sleep, causes her hand to miss the top of his little head and she bops him a little on the nose causing him to giggle into her clothed kneecap.

“Could I have a cupcake?” he asks once the giggles die down, hugging her knee to his face and tugging on the bottom of her pant leg pleadingly.

She quirks her eyebrows up in confusion. _Cupcakes? Since when did they have cupcakes?_ She felt like she was really losing her mind.

She decides not to question it. “Did you ask your mom?” she asks, remembering Margot’s personal rule for their son to not have too many sweets before bed. She wanted a healthy diet for the boy.

The puppy eyes she gets as a reply answers her question. Morgan probably had already asked his other mother but received the answer he didn’t want so he came to Alana to get his way. Alana usually had a hard time saying no to her boy.

With a heavy sigh and a pat to his pajama clad little shoulder, Alana nods an affirmative. Morgan squeals excitedly and hugs her leg even tighter before scampering out of the room, swinging the library door shut with a slam that makes Alana wince from the noise.

As she pulls out her phone from her pant pocket to check how long she was out for her nap, she could hear movement outside the door. Soft voices and pleads echo in the hallway, Morgan and his forbidden cupcake was caught but not confiscated. She hears another door click shut and then approaching footsteps, Margot comes into the room a few moments later with a plate outstretched in her hands. She walks over to the couch to take a seat next to Alana, placing the snack in her lap.

“What’s this for?” the older woman asks, taking the cupcake up off the plate for inspection. Red velvet, her personal favorite.

“A peace offering. For all those bitchy texts I sent you earlier.” Margot explains, scooting closer to wrap her arm around Alana’s free one. Alana takes a big bite, cream cheese frosting covering her nose. “These are good, where’d you get them?”

Margot swipes away at the messy frosting with a finger, tasting it away. Those cupcakes might actually come in handy for later. “At that cute little bakery around the corner from your office. I would’ve given them to you earlier but I was swamped with work. That meeting was complete and utter hell.”

Alana smiles sympathetically at her wife, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down Margot’s crossed legs over her lap. The other woman’s comforting touch still made Margot feel giddy inside after three years, this domestic interaction being something she only saw in movies and merely dreamed about. She still couldn’t believe she had the love of her life in her arms and a ring on her finger.

“You had already been forgiven by lunch, to be completely honest. You’re kind of hard to stay mad at,” Alana admits, finishing off her sweet confectionary concoction with one last bite, clapping her hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

Her answer pleases Margot, who places the empty plate on the side table by the couch and swings one leg over to settle carefully onto Alana’s lap, wary of her fragile hips.

“Good. You’re difficult to stay mad at as well. The hot water thing ended up not being your fault anyway, I talked to one of the housekeepers and he said it was probably just bad pipes. I’ll call the plumber tomorrow.” Margot is already untucking the blouse out from under the waistband of Alana’s crimson slacks.

Alana hums in acknowledgement and skims her arms around the other woman’s middle, admiring the curves of her body through the sleek pencil skirt that prominently articulated her delicate waist. Her work outfit of the day was a skimming black skirt and a gray blouse tucked at the waistband, her usual brown curls now straightened in waves tucked behind one bejeweled ear. “It’s an old house. Personally, I think together we should start conserving water anyway. For the environment.”

She seals her proposition with a wink, Margot giggling in response. “How thoughtful of you. Here, you’ve got something.” She presses her lips to the corner of Alana’s mouth, tasting the remainder of the leftover frosting away.

Her lips are caught by Alana’s, deepening their kiss by surging her body closer. She expected this to escalate before even entering the library. She hated sharing little disputes with her wife but they both loved the end result. Besides, her shareholders meeting at work had bound her up with an endless amount of stress and she craved the release her wife could give to her. She moves her hands down to undo Alana’s pant button and zipper, sliding them down past her legs and Margot gets up from the couch to settle onto her knees, positioning herself in between the other woman’s thighs.

As Margot repositions her knees on the hardwood floor, her hair tickling the insides of Alana’s bare thighs, Alana thinks to herself that the wood probably wasn’t very comfortable. This position wasn’t anything new to them anyway, she had been making much better progress in her physical therapy sessions, she rarely had to use her cane anymore, and had wanted to mix things up a bit. She tugs up Margot by her arms, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“I want to try something, if that’s okay?” Alana asks hesitantly as she fixes her pants back up, the two women making their way out of the library across the hallway to their master suite. They have to keep their voices to a minimum on the tip-toe walk over, their Verger heir was sleeping in his chambers down the corridor. Margot raises her eyebrows at her wife’s inquiry but accepts nonetheless, she was always up for her wife’s new suggestions in the bedroom. She opts to keep her clothes on for now, a long black pencil skirt and a gray blouse, but kicks her heels off and plops onto the bed to watch as Alana digs around a drawer for her toy and harness.

She finds what she was looking for and Margot gets up from her position on the pillows, helping her wife out of her suit and into the tricky harness. “This isn’t anything new, I thought you said you wanted to try something different?” She asks expectantly, Alana helping her out of her shirt and kisses across the newly exposed skin.

She pulls Margot by the back of her knees gently to the edge of the bed, easing the skirt down her legs and kissing all the way from the inside of her knee down to her ankle. The younger woman moves her hand down to tangle her fingers into dark tresses of hair tickling her calves before Alana unexpectedly flips her body over by her hips, her cheek meeting silk sheets.

Her bra is unclasped and reverent kisses replace the fabric, more deliberately on the puffed skin of her scars on her shoulder blades and the delicate dip of her spine. Alana moves her head up closer and probes Margot’s cheekbone with a nudge of her nose, the other woman taking the hint and shifting her head over her shoulder for their lips to meet. A pair of hands smooth up and under Margot’s body, massaging her breasts against the soft bedsheets. She almost couldn’t handle how gentle everything felt, she was enclosed with warmth and softness everywhere. Alana’s skin was nearly as soft as the linens beneath her.

“I. Love. You,” Alana proclaims softly, kissing each word against the skin for emphasis and the words caused a fuzzy warm feeling to erupt all over Margot’s body. She had heard the proclamation hundreds of times from her wife over the years, the simple three words still struck her to her core and she was well acquainted with the fuzzy fond feeling the words caused.

Over the years, Alana had mastered the skill of reading her wife’s body language. She could tell the heiress was tense with stress due to her long workday and she intended to fix that problem immediately. Margot merely moans in response, repositioning her body onto her knees facing away from the warm body pressed up behind her and moving her hands to intertwine with Alana’s that were currently holding onto her waist.

Alana sucks in an anxious breath, pushing herself to rest most of her weight onto her kneecaps, her bones and joints there no longer screaming in pain against the large plush bed. “That’s new,” Margot notes happily, Alana pleased with herself and hugs her body even closer to the other woman’s backside pressed against her front. Margot fumbles a hand behind her, helping Alana place the toy inside her pulsating center, slick and warm with anticipation.

“Is this okay?” Alana asks hesitantly into the other woman’s ear enclosed in brunette hair, easing her way carefully inside as she gently grips the other woman’s hips. Margot moans an affirmative, pushing herself back against the body behind her to set up a rhythm. “This is more than okay.” Margot eases her hands down to rest her weight against the mattress, Alana sending one hand across the expanse of her back to rub at the tense muscles of her upper back before gripping the scarred shoulder for leverage.

They pick up speed and match their own rhythm, the mere sight of Margot’s ass bouncing up and down and smacking against Alana’s sticky upper thighs alone makes Alana come in minutes and writher against the other woman’s back. Margot follows soon after, she just adored it when her wife brought out surprises and executed them so well. She lets Alana crumble against her back, both bodies collapsed in a sweaty heap against the pillows.

After they have a few moments of clarity to regain their normal breathing patterns, Alana slides out carefully, pressing a quick peck to a sweaty temple, thin brown hair sticking to the moisture there, and Margot whimpers at the sudden loss of contact. She shimmies out from under Alana’s weight and pushes the other body onto her back to rest comfortably against the pillows. She then hooks a leg over her wife’s waist and squeezes her sides excitedly. “Let’s do that again.”

Alana chuckles, chest slightly heaving with effort. “Again? I don’t know babe, you wore me out.” she wheezes into a soft laugh and helps Margot position herself into a laying position, her leg still hooked around Alana’s waist. Margot just admires the sight of the other woman, looking up from her perch of Alana’s shoulder to an expression of contentment with satisfied fatigue. She lets her wife relax a little longer, tapping her wedding ring against Alana’s slightly heaving collarbone before she grips Alana by the shoulders, gently pulling her up from the pillows to wind her arms behind her neck.

They pick up right where they left off, Alana’s arms holding onto her desperately by the waist and bucking her hips up to match Margot’s smooth stroking movements positioned in the center of her lap. She couldn’t get over simply how close they were, Margot’s legs wrapping around her lower back and holding onto the nape of Alana’s neck as Alana rocks their bodies up and down in a familiar rhythm. Alana feels delicious heat everywhere just from the heavenly sound of Margot’s little mewls of pleasure into her dark hair and the touch of the other woman’s urgent kisses all the way from behind the shell of her ear to her collarbone, licking her way up Alana’s throat because she knew it drove her crazy. She knew the other woman was close, Margot’s little breathy moans of pleasure turning to breathy declarations of love, rambling as she approached her climax.

Once she comes, Margot whips her head back, the ends of her long brown hair tickling the skin of Alana’s lower thighs as she brokenly utters a mix between a moan and a groan. Her hands fumble blindly from the grip of Alana’s neck to her bare chest, gripping her wife’s breasts subconsciously as she falls from her high. Alana couldn’t look away from the sight of the other woman positioned on her lap, her whole body shining with sweat and her mused hair sticking to her temples and neck as the muscles in her bare stomach and arms twitched. It was mesmerizing to watch. Alana’s arms await her fall and they both tumble back to the pillows in fatigue. She skirts her hand up and down the smooth expanse of Margot’s back, the cool metal of her wedding ring causing little goosebumps to appear on the sweaty flesh.

“You’re so beautiful. Have I told you that today?” Alana huffs into a gentle pressing murmur, trying to regain her breath as the other woman does the same and to not disturb the easy silence of their bedroom.

Margot tries to suppress her shy smile but fails, her whole face shone golden from the dim glow of the bedroom lights. She surges her face forward to hide herself in the other woman’s hair, smelling the scent of her shampoo among the prominent smell of sweat and sex. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Bloom.”

Alana giggles at the familiar nickname, her breasts shaking with the delightful sound and causing Margot to also slightly shake on top of her resting position on Alana’s chest. “That…that was…that was nice. I like physical therapy,” Margot muses aloud once her body settles from its climax, cuddling into the other woman’s neck as Alana holds onto her back tighter with a squeeze of an agreement. She carefully shifts under Margot, undoing the harness completely and tossing it off onto the ground off to the side of the bed to deal with later.

“I like it too. When I actually remember to show up for my appointments that is,” Alana says, Margot giggling in response and curling up closer to her wife’s side. “I think next week my trainer wants to try some gymnastics exercises.”

“Those exercises might come in handy for us. Flexibility is an appreciated skill to have,” the younger woman purrs, hugging the familiar body close to her under the warm sheets. Alana chuckles and rubs a hand down her face in exhaustion, yawning after the long events of the day. She was convinced this woman, swaddled up comfortably in her arms, would be the death of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh death by seduction inflicted by Margot Verger doesn't sound half bad on my obituary.


	5. paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana notices her wife has an affinity for expensive fur coats, so they decide to play around with said furs for a relaxing night in.

Alana had arrived home from her institution a little earlier than usual, the fact that she knew Margot took a much needed day off fueling her desire to return back to the Verger-Bloom estate as fast as humanly possible. Margot had been coming home at ungodly hours this past week, pouring over spreadsheets and various idea proposals for the Verger family company. She was trying to pass a new vegan deal for the company but it was off to a slow start due to a good number of her co-workers not totally agreeing with it.

The foyer was completely silent once Alana walked in, the only noise produced was the clang of her keys getting dropped into its rightful little dish. No excited giggles or a hug from her son. She walks into the kitchen but saw no sign of her wife stirring away over a pot at the stove. Alana purses her lips in dismay but grabs an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen island before cutting through the side door in the kitchen to look for her family outside.

She trudges through the pathway over to the stables, snow sloshing against her boots, before she reaches the horses chambers. She is greeted by a groom, sweeping away at the stray hay pieces scattered across the floorboards.

“Mrs. Verger and the boy are out for a ride, they left about a half hour ago. They should be back soon,” Jean, one of the many staff members explains to her once she questions her family’s whereabouts.

With a little scratch under one of the older horses near her, Alana nods. “I’ll wait.” She takes a bite of her apple but ends up feeding the rest to the horse, patting the animal’s neck as he chews. She explores all around the stables, not a great deal of change over the years minus the few younger additions after the older horses passed away. She used to utilize this place as a means of secrecy during the early days of her and Margot’s relationship, stolen kisses and meetings shared here behind Mason’s back. She finds a storage bin filled with snacks for the horses, so she munches on some sugar cubes as she waits for her family to return.

They come back a mere ten minutes later, Morgan saddled with his other mother on a large steed, Margot’s arms wrapped securely around her son’s middle as he holds onto the reins.

“Hey mommy! Look at me!” he starts to exclaim but remembers to lower his voice at the last second to avoid spooking the other horses.

“I am looking,” she says, offering a little wave as her hello before shooting him a thumbs up.

The groom leads the horse back inside and Margot helps pass Morgan down to his other mother below so she wouldn’t have to do all the work. Alana holds onto the little body from under his arms, her back only momentarily flushing with pain from his weight before helping Morgan down to the ground.

He scampers off to the barrel of snacks to feed the animals, grabbing a few sugar cubes and carrots to feed the other horses. Margot slides off the massive horse with ease, putting away her saddle as the groom takes the horse to its designated chamber.

Alana watches Margot complete the task, her eyes roaming over her wife’s current ensemble. Tan riding jacket with fur lining (faux of course), white cashmere sweater underneath, and brown Jodhpurs with matching brown riding boots. She loved seeing Margot in her riding gear, it suited her well and it was nice change from her usual work garb. It was also served as a flood of nostalgia, it reminded her of the beginning of their relationship with most of their shared meetings spent here in the stables.

“Have a nice ride?” Alana asks once the other woman comes back, slinking her arms around Margot’s lower back.

Margot sighs a little, her breath appearing and then disappearing in the chilly crisp wind. “Eh, it was just okay. Could do without the snow, however.” She pauses to purse her lips in a flirtatiously coy smile at the shorter woman, staring her up and down appraisingly. “I’ve ridden better.”

She earns a little playful smack to her Jodhpur clad bottom from Alana for that comment. “Hey! There are little ears around here.” Alana looks over to Morgan who is currently feeding his pony a carrot and chatting away happily to the little animal, oblivious to his mother’s innuendo.

Margot merely grins wickedly, pulling her hands away from Alana’s waist to remove her riding helmet. “He can’t understand or hear us. Besides, I’m only stating the truth.”

Alana feels her neck and cheeks flush with heat, meeting gleaming green eyes cast over Margot’s shoulder. “You aren’t helping my ego.”

She’s rewarded with a laugh from Margot for that interjection, the sound ringing heavenly through the stables. It was one of Alana’s favorite sounds. “Babe, you couldn’t be egotistical even if you tried.” She sneaks up behind Morgan to hoist him up in her arms, squeezing his giggling form with dozens of peppering kisses to his cheeks, rosy from the cold. “Morgan has a softie for a mother.”

The older woman smiles fondly at the sight, her whole body filling with warmth at the maternal action. She purses her lips, painted red like always, before joining them. “I am most definitely not a softie.”

Her two favorite pairs of eyes meet her gaze, beautiful wide greens and little baby blues. Margot turns to Morgan, squeezing his sides. “Mommy thinks she’s scary and intimidating. What do you think, Moo-Bear?”

The boy giggles, burying his head into her neck. “Sometimes she can be a little scary, but in a good way like for Halloween last year! But she is a mix of pretty and scary.”

Both parents laugh at his simple explanation before Alana rewards her sweet son with a big hug, wrapping her arms around both the boy and her wife. She kisses his cheek over and over, his milky cheeks smudged with red now from the cold and her lipstick.

He squirms his way out of his mother’s grasp to hop back down to grab more sugar cubes, but Margot stops him. “Let’s go eat real dinner first,” she interjects, snapping the sugar cube barrel lid shut which receives a pout from the boy.

Alana reaches into her pocket, feeling for the extra sugar cubes she snacked on when she waited for the two to return from their ride. With Margot’s retreating back turned, she sprinkles a few into Morgan’s hand, raising her free hand to her lips to motion secrecy to him.

He giggles and hugs her leg, Alana stopping to pat him on the head. She wished she was mobile enough to carry him for longer periods of time like Margot was. “I love you, Mommy.”

The term still made Alana’s breath get caught in her throat. “I love you too, T. But I want your mama to love me for a little while longer, so let’s keep this quiet.” She ruffles his hair as he nods, munching happily on the sugar cube as they head inside the mansion for dinner.

 

* * *

 

 

Afterwards once dinner was served, baths were taken, and little ones were tucked in for slumber, the ladies of the house excused themselves to their chambers. They were still a bit giggly from their usual post-dinner beverage of choice: Margot’s whiskey.

“Are we really doing this here, in a closet of all places?” Alana asks, a hint of incredulous disbelief but no trace of surprise, as Margot surges her lips to her flushed neck. Her head lulls backwards for the other woman to have more access, her hair strands catching on the many array of fur coats hanging up in their large master bedroom closet. Faux fur of course, everything turning to faux with Margot’s stance of the proper treatment of animals. The thought makes Alana’s chest get all warm.

She remembers the period of reconstruction shortly after Mason died, all his expensive belongings getting tossed out. For good. Alana had come back from packing up her own personal belongings at her old apartment, greeted by a massive bonfire lit in the back property of Muskrat Farms. Margot had tossed every single one of her dead brother’s lavish fur coats, real and soft and poached fur, into the fire. She lit Alana a cigar before roasting a marshmallow, munching happily on a s’more as she sat perched on Alana’s lap. Alana still remembered how blissfully happy her Margot looked in between shared puffs of the cigar, the orange flames dancing in her shimmering eyes.

Alana comes back to reality, Margot is now tracing a wet and warm path with her tongue on her bare neck. “The bed…too far,” is all Margot is able to say in between her desperate kisses to the hollow of Alana’s throat, hands fumbling to Alana’s vest, buttons popping quickly and the garment is shed to the closet’s floor. Both women were still in their day clothes: Margot in her riding gear and Alana in her usual work pant suit. They both were starting to come home a little later than usual and tightly wound with stress: Margot with her vegan deal for her family’s company while Alana was keeping busy with Hannibal and his usual issues over at her asylum. Both were equally stressful and required a release. While the family owned their own yacht, Margot had wanted to take Alana and their son to the Bahamas for a little weekend trip, they were strapped for time with their work. So, they settled for quick means of relaxation, like bubble baths and massages but only one method seemed to stick.

Margot is already on her knees and undoing Alana’s trousers, murmuring little declarations of her love into her thighs and Alana can’t stop feeling so warm all over that was most definitely not caused by the whiskey. She has to grip both the blob of honey brown hair positioned at the apex of her thighs and the furs behind her for leverage, she grips the furs harder to avoid inflicting pain to Margot’s scalp. They weren’t ones to mix pain with their pleasure.

She comes quickly, Margot takes her time lapping up the remaining liquids dripping down her inner thighs and teasingly blowing on the moisture gathered there. Just a few inches higher above her thighs was her aching hips, straining with internal pain. Alana ends this with a little tug on the ends of Margot’s long curls. “I…I-I don’t think I can stand any longer, honey.”

The younger woman quickly pulls herself up from her kneel on the ground to push one of her many jewelry boxes off a random dresser in the closet, various jewels and gold clattering to their feet. Alana barely has time to register the movement or the noise, her wife is already lifting her up to sit on the now bare surface.

“That was kind of unnecessary,” Alana huffs, wrapping her legs around Margot waist in a vice.

Margot merely shrugs. “They’re replaceable. You however,” she nuzzles her face closer to pepper little kisses across the underside of her jaw, “Are not.”

Alana sighs happily, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s shoulders, now free of garments, and tightens her grip. “You only need one type of accessory in my opinion.” She emphasizes her point by reaching her hand down to lace her hand with Margot’s left, toying with the silver wedding band.

This pleases the other woman, grinning before meeting Alana’s lips for a searing kiss. “I have another accessory in mind.”

Alana raises an eyebrow, meeting her wife’s mischievous smile in the dim closet. Margot turns around to dig around the large oak dresser behind her to fetch her toy and harness, Alana clicking the heels of her bare feet against the dresser drawers beneath her rhythmically. The other woman is taking far too long, shuffling through various other belongings she kept in that drawer so Alana stretches her foot out to poke her bottom to garner her attention, grabbing the lace material of Margot’s panties with her toes to pull them off all together.

Margot yelps in surprise and protest, reaching behind her to smack the foot away. “Patience, darling. I was trying to find the right one for your predicament.” She had purchased the toy with her wife’s fragile body in mind. The considerate thought again makes the warm feeling flood from beneath Alana’s ribcage all the way to her toes.

She turns back around and Alana is already wrapping her legs around the other woman’s lower thighs, Margot letting her take her underwear off this time completely with a smirk. Alana runs a reverent hand down the expanse of her stomach, the muscles beneath her hand flexing and twitching with anticipation. She isn’t able to crane her head down to kiss the scar on Margot’s lower stomach like she usually does, so she takes her wife’s hand to press a kiss to her finger pads and then place the kissed digits on the scar.

Margot smiles fondly as she meets blue eyes, the adoration swimming beneath them. “Help me with this,” Margot says as Alana takes one side of the harness to help her into it, “So I can make love to you with it.”

The term used to make Margot want to gag, never fully engaged in past relationships to actually reach that level of intimacy with another person. Now, happily married to the love of her life, she never found another statement to be so true.

Alana saddles her up closer, digging her heels into Margot’s ass as she bucks easy strokes inside. “Deeper,” the older woman husks, grasping at her wife’s bare shoulders frantically.

Margot obeys and the noises of pleasure, groaned out between Alana’s parted lips, makes her grin victoriously and curl her toes into the carpet of the closet. She just loved the effect she had on her wife. She moves their bodies slightly so she’s able to meet Alana’s lips for a desperate kiss.

“Harder,” Alana orders in between a break for air, the only noise coming from the squeaking of the dresser moving slightly beneath her with her cant of her hips and Margot’s heaving huffs of effort.

She falters her movements slightly, watching the woman beneath her unravel, considering her request. She didn’t want to hurt the other woman. Hesitantly obeying, she takes Alana’s lips with a newfound force and meets her awaiting tongue with a cautious stroke before ending their kiss with a little suck on the tip.

Alana whimpers at the loss of oral contact but erupts in a moan once Margot picks up speed, the rhythmic smack of sweaty flesh meeting sounding almost as wonderful as the little noises Alana makes into Margot’s ear.

They fall back into the furs, Alana arching all the way back and fumbling for something to hold onto as she falls from her climax. She settles for the nape of Margot’s neck and the edge of the dresser underneath her. Margot watches with wonder, the other woman’s face scrunched in pleasure, but it doesn’t crease her beauty in the slightest. Her eyes don’t open until Margot carefully pulls out, slipping out of the accessory before helping Alana get down from her perch on the dresser.

“Wait for me in the bathroom, I want to take a bubble bath with those new oils I got you,” Alana says before pecking Margot’s temple, moving away to slip into her maroon house robe, her initials embroidered on the breast pocket.

Margot’s eyes lazily blink back at her, still hazy from their previous activity. “Wait for you?”

Alana giggles before rolling her eyes fondly, reaching up on the tip of her toes to kiss her wife on the mouth. “Not for long. I just want to check on Morgan.” She tucks a wild curl behind Margot’s ear. “Patience, darling.”

Margot narrows her eyes playfully at the echoed statement. “That’s my line.” She slips on a random large coat nearby, just because. She reaches on the top shelf for her discarded whiskey glass tumbler, still partially filled with the liquor. Alana smiles amusedly at the outfit choice, it looked so…oddly Margot. Her silly high society Margot, playing with her abundance of wealth just because she could. Perhaps they could share a cigar in the bath.

“Don’t take too long,” Margot warns over her shoulder, shutting the master bathroom door just a little so Alana could still see her discard the massive fur coat to the marble floor. With that, Alana obeys, quickly slipping out of the bedroom to peak into her son’s room.

Her child is still soundly sleeping, clutching his stuffed bunny in his grasp. She simply watches him, his chest rising and falling with each easy lull of breath. She carefully walks over to the window, avoiding the scattered toys in his dim bedroom, to ensure the windows were locked. She out of anyone knew the deepest horrors of human nature, she housed Baltimore’s worst culprits of that in her asylum.

She looks onto her son’s sleeping form, his face not smiling nor grimacing, simply in a neutral state of unconsciousness. She envied his purity and innocence, his childlike wonder. She tries to imagine living in a world completely unaware of the world’s horrors before comforting arms wrap around her middle.

“You were taking too long,” is all Margot says, her curls now gone and her brown hair sticks to her neck beneath the collar of her bath robe. She must have been gone longer than expected, she could smell that Margot had already washed her hair from the prominent scent of her shampoo.

Alana lets her tug her all the way back to the bedroom, then to the adjoined bathroom. She notices the fur coat, still laying limp on the marble flooring. She picks up the expensive garment to hang on the hook on the back of the door. “You know what this reminds me of?” She turns to undo her own robe, feeling Margot’s eyes burning into her newly exposed skin from her spot in the massive Jacuzzi tub.

“What’s that?” Margot scoots over once Alana gets into the lukewarm water, Alana’s back pressed against the end of the tub and Margot settled into her lap. She wraps her arms around the other woman’s neck, resting them on the edge of the tub to toy with Alana’s hair.

“That bonfire we had forever ago,” Alana muses happily, closing her eyes to let her wife pour water over her hair in order to lather it up with shampoo. She hears Margot chuckle at the nostalgic memory.

She rinses the shampoo away, gathering conditioner into her palms in order to smooth into Alana’s roots. “I liked that night. Especially the marshmallows and Papa’s cigars.”

“Do we have any more of those?” Alana raises her eyebrows in question, Margot not paying any attention due to her work on cleansing the older woman’s body. She cocks her head back in pleasure once Margot starts slowly lathering body wash into a massaging pattern down her collarbone and breasts.

“Of what? Marshmallows?” Alana still has her eyes closed but can hear the smile behind her wife’s words.

She props her head back up, meeting the other woman’s gaze. “No, silly.” She shifts forward a little to kiss the tip of Margot’s button nose. “The cigars.”

Margot catches Alana’s lips before she pulls away, threading her fingers to the damp dark hair gathered at the nape of her neck. “I’ll have to look. You wanna roast a few marshmallows over the fireplace? We can have our own indoor bonfire.” She seals her proposition with a grin, nuzzling her nose into Alana’s cheek, shiny and slick with bath water.

Alana sighs happily, squeezing Margot’s sides beneath the water before flicking the tub drain on. “Sure. After I fuck you in front of it though.”

She’s true to her word. They end up in a heap in front of the fireplace, the cherry firewood aroma filling the room seeped with the scent of sex and the oils from their bath soaked into their skin. Margot takes a little while to calm down from her high so Alana uses that time to fetch the marshmallows downstairs in the kitchen, but the skewers take longer to locate. She finds them eventually along with the cigars in a random drawer, bounding excitedly up the stairs knowing her wife was waiting for her. She could already picture Margot, sprawled lazily in front of the golden flickering glow of the fireplace.

She was right, Margot had gathered a few pillows to positon into a sleeping pallet near the fireplace and one of her bigger fur coats to use as a blanket. As Alana puffs away at her cigar from her perch on Margot’s shoulder, the other woman smacked contently on a gooey marshmallow. With their bodies tangled together in the most expensive and softest furs, she knew there was no place else she would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspo behind Alana being a cigar-smoking babe was from that old picture that Bryan took of Caroline smoking a cigar backstage at the Paley Fest last year. Holy hnnnnng. Also, how cute is Margot and her fur coats? I just love that aspect of her fashion sense, I was glad to see that translate over to season 3 from season 2. I'd really imagine they'd be faux due to the whole vegan deal that would have taken place during season 4 with the family slaughterhouses and that thought also warms my heart.


	6. keepers of the kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the threat of the Red Dragon inflicting terror on the families of Baltimore, Alana gets a little peace of mind from Margot.

Alana’s mind couldn’t stop moving. She was currently physically immobile due to her position on the couch in the large living room, some animated movie currently playing on the large television screen. She couldn’t get up even if she wanted to, it was a family movie night and those were unacceptable to miss in the Verger-Bloom household. Morgan had picked the film selection for the night, Alana wasn’t very invested in the film. She hadn’t even realized she’d been staring blankly at the light blue drapes a few feet behind Margot’s head, the snow falling slowly in the dark night outside the large window pane.

“Mama I’m tired,” Morgan mumbles, clutching at the front of Margot’s shirt from his cuddle on her stomach. The younger mother is already bundling the toddler into her arms, pressing kisses and coos into his hairline.

“Alright baby, let’s tuck you in. Alana, could you turn off the TV please?” Margot asks over her shoulder, hitching Morgan onto her hip and getting up slowly from the large leather couch.

“Honey? Are you listening?” Margot tries again, pausing at the foot of the stairs. “Alana?”

“Huh? Oh,” Alana slurs, fumbling beneath her weight for the remote buried under the cushion.

She can feel her wife’s burning questioning gaze, always burning wide with intensity. She stretches her arms over her head, acting as if she was merely dazed out in exhaustion. Margot purses her lips at the other woman, studying her precise and fake movements. Morgan yawns and nuzzles his face into her neck, her attention placed back on putting her sleepy child to bed.

Alana watches them leave, not satisfied until both her wife and son had ascended up the stairs and were out of sight. She sighs heavily, slumping back against the squeaky leather cushions. Rubbing a hand across her face, she blindly presses a button on the remote grasped in her hands to turn off the movie. Cute, high-pitched voices of the movie dim with the television set flickering off and Alana watches the animations fade away. She tries to imagine having minimum problems in a child’s carefree world, where their biggest issue is finding Candyland. She would gladly trade for that if it meant getting rid of the growing thought and threat of the Dragon out of her head.

 

* * *

 

 

She had been pacing the master bathroom back and forth across the tile, the chilly marble no longer affecting her due to her feet making a redundant path for the past fifteen minutes. Margot was probably wondering what on earth she was doing so she moves her nervous actions outside the bathroom and moving into the large walk-in closet on the other side of the bedroom, just for an excuse of more movement.

She passes her wife at the vanity mirror on the journey over, the women unscathed by her wife’s anxious mannerisms. Margot had picked up on them for the past few days, contrary to Alana’s knowledge. She had learned to read the other woman like an open book, the perk of being with someone so intimately for the past three years. She says nothing, listening to Alana scramble about the closet as she removes her earrings and other accessories at the vanity. She didn’t wanted to annoyingly nag and press about the stressful topic Alana currently faced, she knew her wife would break down and tell her eventually. Margot would be there to pick up the pieces. She finishes her task, shedding her day clothes off and changing into her pajamas before climbing into the empty bed. Alana was still pacing about the closet, the bottom of her old large t-shirt twirling with each turn of her heel.

Margot pulls out the television remote from her bedside table, flicking the large plasma screen onto some random channel. She hoped background noise would interrupt whatever was bothering her wife and allow a sense of clarity. It was a comforting feeling to know there were other minuscule problems out in the world besides your own, like if the chicken soufflé on this random cooking competition show was undercooked or not.

The younger woman clears her throat loudly, Alana’s head jerking up and looking at the woman through the opened closet door like a deer in headlights. _Caught._

“Come here,” Margot gently commands, patting the empty spot on the large mattress next to her. Alana didn’t have to be told twice, padding over to the bed and settling under the sheets. She tries to get comfortable, shifting in the other woman’s open arms. She snuggles closer and toys with the bottom of Margot’s nightgown, giving her nervous fingers something to do.

That little mechanism worked for about twenty seconds before she got that antsy feeling in the pit of her stomach again, itching to pace about the room some more. She tries to subtly look at her wife, her lower body cuddled close with hers as their bare legs intertwined and her left temple rested on top of a crown of nearly black hair, clearly intrigued with whatever was playing on TV at the moment. The flickering glow of the LED screen cast the most beautiful shadows on Margot’s facial features. Alana looks away, tossing and turning in the sheets to satisfy her internal need for movement. She was surprised Margot hadn’t kicked her out of the bed entirely for the night. If she was bothered by Alana’s movements, she was staying silent.

“Alright, I know these chicken soufflés aren’t the cause of all this jostling. What’s the matter?” Margot finally asks, tapping a button on the TV remote and the large plasma screen goes black as it slowly descends back into its spot hidden in the bed frame. Alana stiffens slightly at the sudden voice of her wife, that feeling of being caught coming back and settling in her lower stomach amongst her remaining nerves.

Alana wasn’t ready to verbalize her frightening thoughts that were plaguing her mind yet. “Hold me?” the older woman asks softly, her voice shaking only a little. She knew her facial muscles would’ve betrayed her, a little grateful her back was currently facing the other woman.

Margot immediately turns to cradle her front against the smaller body of her wife into her arms at her request, soothingly rubbing Alana’s hipbones in little circles through her thin t-shirt. She smiles when she feels Alana nudge the back of her head, trying to wedge it into the crook of Margot’s neck. She cranes her neck on the pillow behind her for wife to do so, shifting the loose collar of the large t-shirt away from Alana’s shoulder to press little kisses from the back of her neck up to her earlobe and causing a little mewl of pleasure to escape from the woman’s parted bare lips.

The older woman sighs heavily, letting her body take over to get comfortable in the other woman’s comforting embrace. It was difficult to feel completely and utterly safe after spending her days at work hearing all these horrible things about the new killer in Baltimore, the Red Dragon. She had heard all about it from her colleagues at work, saw many articles about him in Tattle Crime, dubbed as the Tooth Fairy, but she couldn’t shake the thought of the horrors this madmen accomplished. The mass murderer was known for killing specific families, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the thought of her own family falling victim to the Tooth Fairy’s evil plans.

“I don’t even know where to start. It’s all…too much. All at once,” Alana tries eventually after a few beats of silence, her thoughts unable to come out coherent into words. She couldn’t stop shaking in the sheets and Margot soothingly rubs her lower stomach, dropping light little kisses to her exposed shoulder.

“Try telling me about it one at a time. Take your time, I’m not going anywhere,” Margot suggests gently, wrapping a secure arm around the other woman’s middle to prove her point.

Alana didn’t know what she did to deserve the woman in her arms but she found herself forever grateful to whatever outside force allowed their paths and bodies to intertwine. The older woman takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, rubbing a hand up and down Margot’s arm currently draped around her waist.

“There’s…a lot of talk. At work. About this new suspect in town. Tattle Crime wrote a little piece about it, they call him the Tooth Fairy. Jack thinks Will can help. It’s just…he’s really bad. Really, really bad.” Alana explains, her mind working in gears for delivery of the short and staccato bits of information.

Margot understands her sporadic speech anyhow but slightly stiffens at the unexpected mention of Will Graham, old wounds resurfacing for a moment. “Will might serve a great deal of help for the FBI on this case, his skills have certainly been used many times before. What makes this Tooth Fairy guy any different? You house dozens of disgusting individuals in your institution, I’ve never seen you so shaken up like this.” The younger woman states in concern, rubbing Alana’s skin between her knuckles comfortingly.

“Those guys are much less worse than the Red Dragon, if that’s even possible. And they were locked up before I had other responsibilities to protect.” Alana explains into a sigh, turning her head up and out of her wife’s embrace. She shifts on the pillow and her hair scratches against the pillowcase material, turning away from the burn of questioning green eyes. It was too much to handle sometimes, the emotion, love and passion Margot was able to pour out freely from her facial features now. She barely remembers the time of secrecy both women had to endure back when Mason was still alive, never having the freedom to just simply look into each other’s eyes with him around. She internally wishes Margot hadn’t turned the TV off, it would allow her eyes an acceptable distraction. She settles for studying the ceiling’s architecture.

“I could protect you. You know how I can be when someone poses as a threat to you,” Margot purrs, both seductively flirty in tone but also intensely serious at the same time without missing a beat. Alana turns to meet her gaze, eyes understanding with a quirk of a hint of a knowing smile. She knew exactly what the other woman meant: her mind flashes to an eel tank and a gun positioned in the late Mason Verger’s hand, aimed for her body as a target. She probably would have been shot if it hadn’t been for the woman currently hovering above her.

“You don’t strike me as a knight in shining armor type,” Alana teases as she looks up to Margot’s amused eyes, a good number of her nerves disappearing at her wife’s previous words. She was grateful that her wife was able to have that power, her serious promise masked with her usual flirtatious tone.

Margot giggles before dropping her head down to give a little peck to the corner of Alana’s bare lips. “I’m the queen of this little kingdom, you get to be the knight. You definitely look the part. You did have a hand in saving me from my own monster,” the other woman notes, twirling a strand of Alana’s dark waves with a single finger. She openly studies the blue eyes swimming below hers, the pupils dilated slightly and flickering from Margot’s left and right eye. She can see lingering worry in them, most definitely, but also a little sliver of hope.

“We’ll be okay. I promise. Let me save you from your own dragon this time. I can hire more guards for the house, Morgan can have his own set of guards. I’ll have the helicopter on speed dial.” She pauses her promising proclamation to cradle the other woman’s face with the upmost care, their train of eyesight never breaking.

“Whatever it is that makes you feel more comfortable, I’ll do that for you.” Margot promises, sealing it with a searing kiss. She only wanted to take care of the other woman just like Alana had taken care of her all those times in the past. She smooths over one of Alana’s prominent cheekbones with one hand, her other hand threading into the strands of hair on the top of the other woman’s pillow. Alana tugs her down from her hovering position for more skin contact, her hands gliding over the silky nightgown material partially covering Margot’s back.

Once their lips break apart, Margot opens her eyes first. Alana takes a little more time, her eyelids still fluttered shut from the kiss. The younger woman allows herself to smirk before her smugness is caught, she loved that after three years she still had an effect of her wife.

“We…have a helicopter?” is all Alana says and Margot laughs into her hair, breathing in her scent on the silk pillowcase next to her neck.

“And don’t forget about the yacht,” Margot says into a grateful sigh, happy her wife seemed to be in a much more calm state now. Alana mumbles something incoherent about the abundance of vehicles owned by the little family and the ridiculous amount of money they had, sounding more like sleepy rambles than complaints but it makes Margot smile nonetheless. They both sleep soundly, intertwined on their warm expensive sheets, dreaming only the best of dreams with the very distant thought of Baltimore’s modern monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to all who left kudos/comments or simply read a single sentence. You all rock! <3 I don't have any new future story ideas for these two, but I'm thinking about going back and editing my old stories like Normalcy and Necropolis slightly because I've thought up some new ideas that I'd like to incorporate.


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